Talking About Drinking

 I have a friend here who's been sober for over 40 years and I sometimes wonder how he's accomplished this.  He's a bit of an iconoclast.  He's mostly in the mainstream of standard A.A. thinking until he's not and this I'm fine with.  We're not in the business of telling people what to do and how to do it.  I always say if you're staying sober (and drug free, in my case) and are relatively happy then you should keep doing what you're doing because we can't really improve on that.  Shit, my buddy LSD Tom thinks it's OK to use hallucinogens occasionally and remain sober.  I believe this is nuts but after I did a little research on it I see he's got a point, technically.  He's a good dude and his life is pretty calm and successful so he should keep doing what he's doing.  BTW, his nickname has remained a closely guarded personal secret.

Anyway, my iconoclastic friend says that he's a "recovered" alcoholic.  He thinks we talk about drinking too much and about recovery too little.  "Alcohol is but a symptom" after all.  I get his point - nobody wants to listen to a long drunk-alog where most of the share is about all the excitement and fun that alcohol can provide, especially in the early days of our drinking.  A few times I've left a speaker meeting thinking: "Whew, that sounded pretty good - why did I quit drinking again?"  But new people need to get some of the tragedy that alcoholic drinking causes off their chest.  The important thing is for those of us with some time to bring the sharing back around to the solution.

I think of my time in Chicago early on where virtually every meeting started with the leader giving a short talk on that evening's Step.  A commitment lasted 12 weeks so that the group methodically went through The Steps, one by one, in order, not jumping ahead or skipping over anything distasteful, only moving forward when the Step was thoroughly done.  It was very frustrating for a new guy who wanted to talk about his PROBLEMS!  I had to pay attention to the discussion so that I could find a way to work my problem into the mix.

Solution, my ass.

Honest Abe

 "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction! "And this, too shall pass."         Abraham Lincoln

Sorry, guys, but we didn't come up with this.

When I was at the end of my drinking I had a 1966 Plymouth Belvedere station wagon that my grandpa gave me.  It ran great unless it was cold or hot or you hadn't driven it in the last six or seven hours and you could forget about it if was raining or damp in any way, shape, or form, because the engine would die if it wasn't getting any gas so whenever I came up to a stop light I'd have to do this tricky thing where I'd shift the car into neutral and rev the accelerator with my right foot while putting on the brake with my left foot.  It didn't have a radio and there were no dashboard vents so heat would only come out around your feet.  Air conditioning?  Yes, the switch was right next to the controls that made the car fly.  

I'm grateful every morning when I get into my car.

In the meeting yesterday we talked about feeling good in the morning.  When I was drinking the concept of "feeling good" and "morning" was what is called an oxymoron.  Examples of this disconnect are a "smart idiot" or a "tiny giant."  They are mutually exclusive.

If you had asked me right before I got sober why I wanted to quit drinking and to keep the reason to one sentence I would have said: "I want my mind to stop for a couple of minutes."  I'm always so amazed when my mind is quiet.  This happens often today as opposed to never when I was running and gunning.  Our minds are made to think and that's what they're going to do so I'm not overly surprised when the thing takes off on its own but it is so pleasant to not be held captive by a racing, catastrophizing head.

One Day At A Time

 "I believe that fundamentally all is well. I will not try to plan too far ahead. I know that the way will unfold, step by step. I will leave tomorrow's burden to tomorrow. You are so made that you can only carry the weight of twenty-four hours, no more. If you weigh yourself down with the years behind and the days ahead, your back breaks. God has promised to help you with the burdens of the day only. If you are foolish enough to gather again that burden of the past and carry it, then indeed you cannot expect God to help."

If there is a more fundamental premise in Alcoholics Anonymous than One Day At A Time I don't know what it is. The idea of being In The Moment can be found in every spiritual practice that I've ever run into. It's the reason Buddhist's concentrate on the breath when they meditate - the breath is right there, right there, and because everyone has to do it to live it's a connection you share with every living animal.

We're so hard on ourselves that I've never been able to holler at anyone in AA, no matter how ridiculous and self-destructive their behavior is. I figure the person I'm interacting with has been beating the shit out of him/herself for so long and with such intensity that my piling on won't be helpful. I'm not saying we all don't need to be contradicted from time to time but I sure try to do it with compassion and understanding.

Normal

 Letting go doesn't mean releasing our grip on life and falling into the abyss below.  Letting go is a slow process of easing the grip on some facet of our lives: alcohol, drugs, an obsession, a character defect, or negative feelings toward some asshole who bugs the shit out of us.

I try to follow my conscience slowly, carefully.  I can't resolve that today I'm just going to simply eliminate a character defect or an obsession or a resentment.  I can prepare to let go.  Just slowly let go.  Prepare myself to gently let go.

"We're living through a discontinuity which is a moment where the experience and expertise you've built up over time cease to work.  It is extremely stressful, emotionally, to go through a process of understanding the world as we thought it was, is no longer there.  (No kidding.)  There's real grief and loss.  There's the shock that comes with recognizing that you are unprepared for what has already happened."

The whole premise of trying to make my life "normal" again is a broken premise.  It's a mistake.  It leaves me trapped inhabitants of someone else's broken world.